Harry Potter and the Wanderers Realm
by DevinLeigh
Summary: Voldemort's defeat was only the beginning of the adventure. After Deathly Hallows
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I am making no profit out of this story and do not own any characters except for Aurora, Ann, Devin, so forth.

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HARRY POTTER AND THE WANDERER'S REALM

_Beyond the door to Dumbledore's office, below the winding staircase, he could hear the furtive sounds of the school's stones shifting and moving – making itself right, or as right as it could be after the siege it just withstood. It was strange, having a moment to himself, and the sense of peacefulness which hung over him in spite of the muffled weeping from the courtyard below warred with the guilt and anger that still bubbled up inside of him from time to time._

_So many people gone. Fred, Remus, Tonks, Colin.._

"_And those are only the ones you know about." Harry shivered as he hugged himself, the urge to straighten his glasses second to the need to relieve himself of the guilt that ate at his insides._

_Slowly, the peacefulness slowly began to blanket him as the portraits around him spoke to one another in hushed tones, and he relished the moments he had to himself after he had replaced Dumbledore's wand in the white tomb beside the lake._

_One hand slowly hovered before his face, and he tentatively touched the scar on his forehead, waiting for some prickling, some pain to sear his brain – but it didn't happen. He had to remind himself that after all these years of feeling the burning ache in it that Voldemort was really dead – his body burnt on a pyre erected in the village below, the ashes scattered to the winds. Yet Harry lived._

_The guilt gnawed at his stomach again as a mournful sob trailed up through the opened window of Dumbledore's office._

_Resolutely turning his face away from the portrait of the headmaster that sat smiling benignly at Harry behind the ornate desk, he blinked back the burning tears in his eyes._

_The sound of stones being moved and the sudden shake of the stones in the office reminded Harry he should be downstairs, setting the school to rights again rather then wait here for Professor McGonagall._

_Surprisingly, even after he had been through that past year, he was not tempted in the slightest to raise McGonagall's ire, and so sat where Flitwick had told him, waiting for the stern Transfiguration teacher to appear._

_The ache of guilt subsiding a bit, he managed to glance around the office, knowing it would probably be the last time he ever saw it, he was trying to burn the image of it into his memory._

_Dumbledore's office had been a flurry of activity after Harry, Hermione and Ron had replaced the wand and sealed the tomb once more, the shock of seeing Dumbledore in repose, as if he were simply sleeping making Harry harbor useless hope in his heart that his old Headmaster would wake. In the end though, Dumbledore did not wake, and Harry sealed the tomb again after one long look at Dumbledore's peaceful face. _

_When he stepped in to the office, the portraits were chattering incessantly to each other in low tones, wondering how long it would take to correct the damage to school, who would be the new head, what would be happening at the Ministry of Magic now that there were so many dead. _

_The muted conversations made the guilt and anger eat at Harry's insides again, but he pursed his lips and fought it back even though he had many of the same questions._

_Sunlight streamed in through the high arrow slit window, and Harry watched the dust motes dancing in the patch of late spring sunlight dimly, his ear picking up the excited sounds of students as they hurried outside to await the carriages that would carry them to the train station in Hogsmeade. _

_He felt his eyes grow heavy as the portraits continued to whisper among themselves and cast him curious stares, the heat of the day, the ache in his muscles and the sound of their murmurred conversations lulling him into an almost sleeplike stupor._

_Though his eyelids grew heavy, his brain was frantically trying to sort through the bits that crowded it._

_He would not be returning to the Dursley's this time, yet he did not want to return to Grimmauld place either. He desperately wished to return with the Weasley's to the Burrow, but couldn't bring himself to look Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the eye or see the pain on George's face._

_Suddenly, the smiling face of Fred popped up in his mind's eye, reminding Harry of the first time he had met the twins, how they finished each other's sentences, how they ended up being like older brothers, and the myriad phrases that invariably spilled from one of their mouths – never at a loss for a joke or something funny to be said._

_"Make way for the heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through." _

_Harry smiled as the memory of the twins calling out to students in the hall during his second year echoed in his head._

_Unbidden, the memory of his fourth year and the Tri-Wizard challenge sprang in to his head as the sound of Fred's voice replayed in his memory._

_"I thought it sounded a lot like Percy singing. Maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry."_

_He chuckled even as his eyes filled with tears again, wishing he could stop the ache in his heart or at least turn his brain off for a short while._

"_No, I can't go back to the Burrow." He whispered to himself, wishing it were otherwise, wishing that Fred was back among them._

_He was dreading his return to the tomblike silence of Grimmauld Place, but it seemed that was his home now, and that would be where he returned to once he left Hogwart's for the final time._

_His insides felt hollow and empty every time he thought of Dumbledore and Sirius, the prospect of carrying on when he would never see Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkling in humor or his Godfather's sharp bark of laughter would no longer be heard seemed as impossible as never seeing Fred, Remus or Tonks. _

_And their son! Harry thought with a punch of sadness in his gut that left him breathless. Ted was orphaned now, just as he had been._

_He was so wrapped up in these dreary thoughts that he hadn't noticed the sorting hat had been speaking, reciting another of its poems while Harry sat there immersed in his black thoughts._

_The Hero will come from the West, _

_Weary, but infamous from the Quest,_

_Tall and noble they will be,_

_Brave and familiar, you will agree._

_Daring to journey where no wizard will dare,_

_where they have seen death and returned it's glare,_

_intent on seeking the prize; on capturing the goal,_

_of returning the lost bodies to their souls._

_The only one who has the courage to take the helm,_

_and journey again into the Wanderer's realm._

_Harken, hear my story, for it shan't be long,_

_til the sun rises, til the morning comes, til the break of the dawn._

_Harry spun in his seat to better see the sorting hat on it's high pedestal, but just as he did, the rip near the brim had shut, appearing to be just another wrinkle in the old hat._

_"What was that all about?" Harry asked aloud. "What did that mean?"_

_"It meant that your work may be done, but there might still be much left to do for others." The portrait of Dumbledore said from behind Harry, surprising him. "It should prove to be an interesting summer." The portrait said, almost to itself before rousing to look at Harry once more. "Ron and Hermione are waiting Harry, you may go."_

_Harry furrowed his brow, confused. "But Professor Flitwick said Professor McGonagall wanted to speak to me - "_

_"Headmistress McGonagall, Harry." The painted Dumbledore corrected, his clear blue eyes twinkling behind his half moon spectacles, gave a mysterious smile. "I think the Sorting Hat has told you everything you need to know for the time being."_

Harry unconsciously rubbed his fingers along the edges of his scar as he sat staring out his bedroom window at Number Twelve Grimmauld Drive.

The rising sun cast streaks of pink, orange and white across the sky as he watched. It had only been a week since he left Hogwarts, his insides twitching with desire discern the meaning of the Sorting Hat's puzzle, even while his heart seemed to be twisting in his chest when he remembered the losses endured in the last battle with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

In addition to slowly driving himself insane with the internal battles being waged in his heart and head, the memory of the last day at Hogwarts had been nagging at him since he had left, driving him batty as he tried to work out what the Sorting Hat had been trying to say.

He had told Ron and Hermione the entire episode as soon as they were alone on the Hogwart's Express. Not an easy feat now that their small group had swelled to include Ginny, Neville, Dean and Luna. Yet he had managed through a series of whispers as the other three were intently reading the Quibbler.

Recalling how Hermione had blanched and Ron screwed up his face in confusion, Harry was certain Hermione had read something in Hogwart's library that could possibly reveal the answer to the Sorting Hat's impromptu poem.

In addition to the thoughts that kept bouncing round his head like a bumblebee in a jar, he had received a letter from McGonagall on Hogwart's stationary- a form letter Harry was sure - that there was going to be a sort of memorial service for the fallen members of the DA and Order in two days - given by the surviving family members.

Harry glanced at the letter, his heart giving another twist in his chest when he remembered the first time he had seen that familiar 'H' - six years ago, which now felt like a lifetime ago.

He could just make out McGonagall's familiar signature at the bottom of the letter, recalling that the service would be held in Hogsmeade, at the Three Broomsticks.

Letting out a heavy sigh that did little to lighten the weight of his heart, he found himself looking for Hedwig in the lightening sky, as if she would be returning from her nightly flight at any moment. He jerked when he remembered that she would not appear, that her snowy white presence would never be there to provide him comfort again.

Harry glanced behind himself at his bed, where the letter he received just last week from Ron lie opened on the rumpled bedcovers.

Harry -

Only have a moment to jot down a couple of quick lines before Mum sees I'm not working.

Loads going on here at home, Mum and Dad are expecting a very important visitor, but they won't let on who it is yet.

Mum's had us all cleaning the Burrow like house elves since our return. I think she is trying to keep us all busy and our thoughts occupied, but it doesn't matter, the house feels a bit off since Fred is gone, though the twins weren't living here with us anymore.

Ron

P.S. We'll be staying at the Three Broomsticks and mum has reserved a room for you as well. Will you meet us at King's Cross tomorrow for the trip in to Hogsmeade?

He threw himself face down on his bed in a fit of despair at having to face the pain and sadness on the Weasley's face once more, then before he knew what had happened, he had fallen fast into a dreamless sleep.

He woke much later that morning, not surprised that Kreacher allowed him to have a lie in.

Though the house elf had been given his freedom after the battle, he choose instead to return to Grimmauld Place with Harry, bringing along Twinky for good measure.

The sight of the little female elf made the perpetual ache in his chest worse, mainly due to the memory of their first meeting and his mistaking her for Dobby.

He rolled over onto Sirius's old bed that he now claimed for himself and stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. The dull ache had worsened because the longer he stared at the cracks, the more and more he could make out Sirius's smiling face right before a bark of laughter would escape.

Harry rolled over onto his side, staring blankly now at the wall and the Muggle women in their bikini clad bodies, smiling flatly out at him as the bright summer afternoon slanted in through the opened curtains behind him. He vaguely wondered how the sun could be shining and the posters smiling when he felt so miserable and dreary on the inside.

He was so lost in his thoughts, his emotions running the gamut of sadness, then anger and finally depression, that he didnt hear the doorbell ring downstairs at first.

It was only when he had heard Mrs. Black's impromptu screeching and Twinky's command of _silence!_ that he realized Kreacher had allowed someone inside the doors.

Though he had not yet received any guests at Grimmauld Place, he lay there staring at the posters, feeling a sort of numbness in his limbs in spite of his curiousity at who could have come calling, he couldn't bring himself to rise and welcome them.

Hopefully, Kreacher would inform the visitor that he was still sleeping, and he could wrap himself tighter in the blanket of gray misery that seemed to fall on his shoulders as he had walked through the torn courtyard of Hogwart's less then a week prior.

Remembering the bodies that lay in the Great Hall when he passed by it on his way to the courtyard, he felt the tears sting at his eyes again and he rapidly blinked to keep them from falling.

"Harry?" There was a gentle knock on the door, and Hermione's voice came to him through the thick wood. "Harry?"

Pushing himself in to an upright position and snatching his glasses from the nightstand, he dashed the tears from his eyes and hoped the redness would be mistaken for just rising from sleep.

"Come in." He answered, watching as the serpent head on his side of the door rose.

"All right Harry?" Hermione asked, peering at him from around the cracked open door.

"Yeah." Harry replied, clearing his throat abruptly and giving her a nod.

"You're sleeping awfully late." She noted with a smile. "No nightmares?"

"No nightmares." Harry gave her a sad smile as he rose and stretched, not wanting to face the day, but aware he could no longer hide himself away. "Just having a bit of a lie in."

Hermione nodded. "I'll let you dress and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Harry gave her another smile and returned her nod as the door closed, feeling the sadness within him begin to lighten a bit after seeing a friendly face.

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Read and Review! I've got chapters lined up but am waiting for signs of life from readers. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I am making no profit out of this fan fiction and do not own or claim to own any familiar characters.

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"I've pictures of Ted." Hermione said as Harry entered the kitchen, hair still wet and sticking up in the back after his shower.

"Yeah?" He said with a smile as he sat across from her at the well scrubbed table.

With a nod, Hermione pushed the pictures of the baby with turquoise hair across the table at him. Unable to help himself from smiling at the image of the toothless infant that had gone cross eyed watching the stringless mobile of magicked tiny brooksticks zoom overhead.

He grinned at Hermione, recognizing the gift he had asked her to deliver to the baby.

"Thanks." Harry whispered, feeling a little better knowing that the infant was being well cared for, unlike Harry'd been when he was orphaned.

"The Ancient House of Black still survives." Kreacher whispered wistfully as he glanced at the photo and placed mugs of tea before Hermione and Harry.

Harry gave a little jolt, realizing Kreacher was right – Nymphadora had been Sirius's cousin, and Ted was the last remaining member of the house of Black – not including Narcissa and Draco Malfoy – which Harry didn't.

"As does the house of Peverell." Hermione added in an undertone, giving Harry a wink behind her mug.

Harry didn't reply, choosing instead to sip at his coffee in companionable silence as Twinky and Kreacher worked in the kitchen, providing them both with an assortment of sandwiches to choose from for lunch.

"Mr Potter sir, Twinky made sandwiches since it is so late." Twinky said, her enormous eyes blinking up at him. "If Mr. Potter would like, Twinky can make eggs?"

Harry gave her a wan smile, unable to make himself look at her too long and see the similarities between her and Dobby again. "No, thank you Twinky – sandwiches are fine." He said, clearing the lump of sadness from his throat with a gruff noise. "I'll remember to get out of bed earlier if I want eggs."

Satisfied, Twinky gave him a little worried smile, and drifted off to help Kreacher clean and sort through the house, to make it live-able again.

The silence dragged on as the muffled sounds of the two house-elves as they worked, the gentle clinkings and various other muted noises in the house seemingly distant before Hermione broke the silence.

"I thought we could share a cab." She said, putting down her mug. "Something different then apparating."

Harry looked up at her in surprise. "A cab?" He echoed.

"Yes. To King's Cross." She replied, looking a little worried.

The sadness and guilt rose afresh in his stomach. "I don't know if I'll be going." He whispered, admitting to cowardice after everything he had been through the past few months.

"Don't be silly. Of course you're coming." Hermione replied in a voice that sounded vaguely reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley, brooking no argument. "Kreacher's packed your trunk and you are ready to go."

Harry licked his lips nervously, thinking of seeing Ginny again.

"But the funeral for Fred?" He asked, lifting his eyes to hers to try and communicate how out of place he knew he would feel at the Weasley's now. How uncertain he was about attending the funeral and sharing in the sorrow or the eyes he knew would fall on him.

Hermione knitted her brows together, her lips tight for a moment before she spoke. "Yes? What of it?"

"I don't – I'm not certain I –" Harry started and then let the sentences trail off.

"You are being a stupid git." Hermione snapped, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms angrily over her chest. "Do you think that the losses would have been any less if you hadn't faced Voldemort?" She asked. "Do you think that more lives wouldn't have been lost if you didn't?"

Harry felt his throat tighten up, remembering the long list of people who had died, the stone in his stomach became heavier with each remembered face and name.

"I don't know."

Hermione made a noise in her throat somewhere between irritation and sympathy. "You can't hide in here forever you know." She pointed at the stack of Daily Prophets and Quibblers which sat at one end of the table, obviously unread. "You have to go out and face what has happened, everything that has been done."

Hermione reached out and snatched up the top paper, opening it and turning it toward Harry so the words could be read.

_**Voldemort Vanquished! **_

The photo of the funeral pyre which had the vague outline of a body flickered to life below the headline.

_**Ministry Restored! **_

Below the headline was the face of Kingsley Shacklebolt standing before the fountain at the center of the Ministry.

_**Renaissance of the Wizarding World Imminent!**_

Xeno Lovegood, Elphias Doge and several other more eccentric wizards stood grinning from ear to ear at him and waving from beneath that blurb.

"See Harry?" Hermione said, pushing the paper closer. "No one blames you. We all knew what could happen, would happen – and we choose to do it anyway and make a better world – a safer world for muggles and wizards alike."

When Harry pushed the paper away, she made another noise and rose from the table, coming around to his side and cupping his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"Have you forgotten the Muggle world Harry? Have you seen so far in to Voldemort's head, and spent so much time with the Death Eaters through him that you don't understand we are human? We have free will?" She asked softly as the kitchen around them went quiet. "We all knew what we were doing Harry. We knew the risks and we took them anyway. This is no way to show gratitude to the people who stood behind you, who battled alongside you, who followed you."

"Free will." Kreacher echoed softly behind Harry in the opened kitchen door. "It is a wondrous thing."

Harry swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, nodding a little between Hermione's hands. "You're right. I'm being a stupid git."

Hermione lifted a brow and gave him a smile. "Of course I'm right." She said, rising from the bench. "Eat up, it's almost time to go."

The cab pulled up to curb at King's Cross station, Harry extracting his and Hermione's trunks from the boot as people filed past them toward the entrance of the station.

Wiping the sweat from his brow and wondering what Hermione had packed in her trunk when she could have used her beaded purse, Harry paused and looked around at the outfits on the people who silently made their way inside the station.

Recognizing the eccentric dress of wizards and witches as they passed by him, he was given a few small nods of acknowledgement as they caught his eye.

The cab pulled away from the curb as Hermione joined him, tearing his attention away from the people who passed close by.

"_Reparo_." Hermione whispered at a trolley near them, the broken wheel fixing itself so Harry could load their trunks, impressing him since he hadn't even seen her wand emerge when she whispered the spell.

"There's a lot of people." Harry said to Hermione, his eye following a few top hats and pointed witch's hats in the crowds.

"Yes. There are." Hermione mumbled, distracted.

Loading his trunk atop Hermione's, he glanced up to find her eyeing a long, black sedan sitting beside the curb.

"All right Hermione?" He asked, pulling his dark brows together.

Hermione pulled her eyes away from the American auto, turning toward Harry and nodding.

"Yes, just wondering what that car is doing here." She replied, coming up behind the trolley to push it toward the doors of the station.

"Why?" Harry asked, not seeing anything particularly interesting about the car other then the steering wheel being on the wrong side.

"Strange for it to be parked in that zone when it clearly states no parking." Hermione mumbled, glancing over her shoulder at it once more before they entered the doors to the station.

Harry chuckled and shook his head at her. "You're being overly suspicious Hermione." He replied, giving her a grin. "I thought that was my job."

Hermione smiled back, giving him a lifted brow. "Yes, well – someone has to carry on tradition, don't they?"

Shaking his head at her again, he gestured for her to cross the wall to 9 ¾, where the Hogwart's Express would be waiting.

The whoosh of the barrier filled his ears as he followed her through, blinking in the light that reflected off of the shiny red engine before them.

Normally seeing the area filled with happy students and parents seeing them off, the subdued atmosphere of the platform, filled with parents and students alike that were boarding the train in silence felt foreign and unreal to Harry.

All the faces of the people he saw were sad and drawn, letting him know that he did not mourn alone, the entire wizarding world mourned the losses along with him.

It was oddly comforting to him in some strange way – but before he could examine the feeling, he was called from the direction of the train.

"Hermione, Harry!" Mrs Weasley shouted from an open window of the Express where he could see George and Mr. Weasley further back in the compartment. "We've saved you a seat. Hurry along!"

Taking the trolley from Hermione and pushing it toward the train, he managed to ask Hermoine in an undertone where Ron was at.

"I suspect sulking." Hermoine replied, giving a secretive smile. "Victor wrote to tell me he was coming to the Memorial Service." She said this last with a sad glance at Harry as Ginny came up alongside them.

"Ron isn't taking it too well." Ginny finished as Harry pulled the trolley to a stop beside the steps of the coach the Weasley family had obtained.

"Well, he knows what he can do about it!" Hermoine replied huffily as Ginny opened her mouth to defend her brother.

Harry, remembering the kiss Ron had given her, gave Hermione a grin and a nudge with his elbow. "He does know how to stop you from talking, doesn't he?"

Hermione colored quickly and snapped her mouth shut as Ginny gave him a quizzical look. It felt good to smile after a week of wallowing in his sadness, even if it was almost foreign feeling to grin at Hermione's red cheeks, he still savored the feel of it.

Speaking quickly to avoid the questions he could see forming in Ginny's head, he pushed the trolley faster.

"The letter said Dumbledore's family will be giving the memorial." He put in, changing the subject. "Who is there other then his brother Aberforth?" He asked, lugging the trunk from the trolley as Ginny picked up Hedwig's cage.

"It's silly not to suspect he doesn't have other family you know! All those strange disappearances over the past years, owls all the time and such." Hermoine said, clapping a hand to her mouth as Harry and Ginny turned interested eyes toward her.

"You sound as if you know a lot about that Hermoine." Ginny said, snatching the information up quickly. "I thought Skeeter's book only named Dumbledore, Aberforth and Ariana. Two of them are dead Hermione, and that leaves only Aberforth."

Hermoine mutely nodded, darting a quick look at Mrs. Weasley. Detecting this as the cause of Hermoine's silence, they gave her looks of understanding as Harry hefted the trunks and mounted the steps to the train, Ginny leading the way to the compartment where the Weasleys had assembled.

George and Mr. Weasley took Harry's burdens as soon as they entered the compartment, quickly stowing Harry's belongings alongside their own as Mrs Weasley enveloped Harry in a hug - giving Harry a start of surprise when he realized not only did Mrs. Weasley's head fit perfectly beneath his chin, but that there were other people in the compartment he didn't know.

Two girls wearing navy blue robes were talking in low tones to each other near the window. The blonde one reminded him vaguely of Hermione with her wild hair that vaguely resembled hay, the other dark with long spirals of hair that kept falling in her face as they huddled together over a book Harry recognized as 'Hogwart's, a History'.

Before he could ask Hermione who the two girls were, Mrs. Weasley was talking.

"Your just Ron's height - both of you too thin for your own good and need some feeding up." Mrs. Weasley pronounced as she released him and Mr Weasley shook his hand. "But we've the entire summer to accomplish it. I daresay there will be no more brawling around the country now that everything…"

Harry felt his heart twist as Mrs. Weasley broke off, quickly dabbing at her tears.

"Nice to see you Harry." Mr. Weasley interrupted, giving him a warm smile.

Harry gave the Weasleys a warm grin in return, feeling his face heat with the attention Mrs. Weasley was giving his rumpled sweatshirt.

"Ron's just in the other compartment, George will you go and get him?" Mrs Weasley asked as Harry settled in beside Mr Weasley, his eyes straying to Ginny, who purposefully avoided his gaze.

"I'll do it." Hermoine said quickly, weaving her way through the little crowd of people in the compartment.

"How was the taxi ride?" Mr Weasley asked as Percy joined them in the compartment, giving Harry a nod before sitting beside the two girls.

Before Harry could answer, George piped up. "Did you see that car at the curb outside the station?" He asked Harry. "Fred and I were trying to get our hands on one for months before – well, just before."

"But Muggles are touchy about their cars being borrowed." Percy finished with a smile so reminiscent of the twins that Harry's heart twisted again in his chest.

"What would you need with a Muggle car?" Mrs Weasley asked, pinning George with a glare.

"Moving things mom! You're the one who told us to quit scaring the Muggles with magicking things from one place to another." George replied.

"What sort of things are you getting from Mundungus that require moving? They must be large enough that Muggles would notice them suddenly disappearing or floating in the air!" Mrs. Weasley asked, her eyes narrowed. "You haven't been accepting stolen cauldrons from that sneak thief, have you?"

"Mum!" George gasped, his hand to his heart as if injured by the suspicion. "How could you think we'd be associating with him in that way? Besides, Whizarding Wheezes has no use for cauldrons - unless of course, they were joke cauldrons, that might melt or something when mixing a potion. Really mom, how could you think we'd be consorting with the likes of Fletcher?" George asked as Mrs. Weasley poked her head out of the compartment, Harry assuming she was looking for Hermione and Ron.

"Because they were." Mr. Weasley whispered to Harry, reminding Harry that he had a bone to pick with Mundungus over the property he had stolen from Sirius's house. "He's a load of questionable silver the twins were interested in returning to its proper owner."

Harry turned to look at George in surprise, and George gave a meaningful nod. "It's the least we can do Harry, after all you've done for us." George whispered as Mrs. Weasley called out for Ron. "We recognized it straight away, and we know how you felt about Sirius." George patted Harry roughly on the shoulder as Harry opened his mouth to thank him. "Doesn't sit well with us that greasy old git with his grubby hands all over Sirius's belongings while he was at the Ministry that night."

Harry felt his stomach twist in rage. "Is that when Mundungus knicked it?"

George shrugged. "Not certain, but it would have been the perfect time, wouldn't it? Especially considering there was no one from the order around that night - seeing how they were all busy."

Rage, hot and heavy bloomed in Harry's chest at the thought, and unbidden, his eyes turned to Ginny, as if the sight of her would calm him, only to find she was still avoiding Harry's eye as she sat quietly in a corner opposite the two girls.

Silently willing Ginny to acknowledge him, Harry barely noticed the train had moved until Mrs. Weasley ended up gripping the door in order to prevent herself from falling backward.

Abandoning the hope of Ginny turning to look at him, Harry let himself be pulled in to a conversation with Mr. Weasley regarding the petrol situation in the Muggle world.

"Shame really, those motorcars belching those toxic vapors in to the air, don't you agree Harry?" Mr Weasley asked politely.

Harry however, had just noticed Hermoine had been gone for a while and Ron still hadn't turned up.

"Huh?" Harry asked, pulling his eyes away from Ginny for the hundredth time. "Oh yes - terrible things - motorcars." He replied, thinking instantly of Uncle Vernon and his preoccupation with owning the largest auto possible to impress the neighbors.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed loudly, making the two girls who were pointing and reading from the massive tome look up in surprise.

"Harry, come and meet two of Hogwart's newest students." She said, gesturing to the girls opposite Ginny. "This is Devin. Devin Fitzpatrick", the girl with the blonde hair nodded and gave him a small wave and smile.

"Hi." She said with a broad grin.

"– and Ann Bauer." Mrs. Weasley continued, smiling down at the girls from behind her ample bosom.

Ann didn't speak, merely looked up at him from behind the thick fall of black curls, giving him a small nod.

Seizing the opportunity to sit beside Ginny, Harry slid onto the seat next to her as he said hello to both of the girls.

"What year will you be in?" He asked, trying to stop the eruption of butterflies in his stomach. "You certainly aren't first years."

"I'm a third year." The blonde replied, his distraction at her American accent momentarily taking him off guard as she cocked her head at him, so the sun through the window reflected off her hair, making Harry note the reddish highlights within it. "I should be a fourth year, but my birthday is in the winter. I missed the cut off."

"What cut off?" Ginny asked, leaning forward a little so her thigh brushed Harry's, making the butterflies in his stomach take flight again.

"In the US." The brunette said, "they have a cut off date for enrollment."

Harry turned his eyes toward Ann, looking as surprised as she was that she had spoken.

Ann, face coloring slightly, swung her eyes away from his and ducked her head. "I'm in fifth year."

"Do you know what houses you will be in?" Ginny asked. "Or will you have to be sorted like the first years?"

"Oh no." Ann replied, her face still hidden behind the fall of hair, making Harry think she might be in Slytherin for her behavior and refusal to meet anyone's eyes. "We were sorted before we left the states."

"I'm in Gryffindor." Devin said proudly. "At our school though I was in XXXXX. " She wrinkled up her nose, looking up at the ceiling of the compartment a moment as the train began to move, making them sway in their seats. "Though, that is kind of funny, isn't it? My house being one named after the man who helped America during the Revolution? And here I am – in the very country that they were trying to gain independence from?" She looked at Harry and Ginny, gave a little shrug and chuckled to herself.

Harry stared at the blonde, the image of Luna Lovegood in his head.

Ginny however, didn't think the blonde was anything like Luna from the way she laughed. "It is a little strange."

"I'm in Ravenclaw." The brunette whispered, her dark eyes looking up at Ginny from behind her fall of hair. She looked at Harry, as if she was as surprised by speaking as he was at hearing it.

"Lot of good people in Ravenclaw." Harry said with a nod, his hand itching to reach out and take Ginny's.

"Hey." Devin said, pointing at the book the two of them had been reading. "Is this thing accurate?"

Ginny glanced at the book, nodding. "I believe so – Hermione read it and seems to think it is." She frowned. "But you haven't met Hermione yet, have you?"

Devin shook her head, tucking some wild hairs behind her ear as she glanced over the book. "No, I haven't met her yet." She agreed, stabbing with her finger at a piece of the book she and the other American girl had been reading. "It said here before we left the US that the artifacts from the founders are still at Hogwarts, but now it says they were destroyed."

Harry swallowed nervously, remembering how they had destroyed the horcruxes, and wondering how much these foreign students knew about the battle that had been waged on the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Did you do that?" Devin asked, fixing Harry with her blue eyes.

"Er –"

"Yes, he did." Ginny replied, relieving Harry from having to tell the truth.

Devin merely looked at Harry for a long moment, making him aware that Ann was watching him too with her dark eyes. The two of them were such a contrast to each other, he wondered how they managed to stay within one another's company for so long without arguing.

"Yeah, I thought so." Devin finally said with a nod, glancing at the book. "I wonder if it will end up saying Harry Potter destroyed the horcruxes."

Harry jerked a little, surprised by the knowledge these two students had when they hadn't even been in the country at the time.

"I don't think so." Ann replied in an undertone to Devin as she scanned down the page with her finger. "Remember, our Defense teacher was telling us – "

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, far more interested in the two Americans then he was, "you have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher too?"

"My mom."

"Her mom."

Both girls said at the same time with a huge grin, looking very proud.

"Best Defense teacher there is." Ann whispered to Ginny.

"I don't know about that." Harry said, loyalty to Remus and Mad Eye swelling in his chest. "We've had some pretty good ones."

Devin looked up at him again, one pale brow lifted as a smirk played on her lips. "Maybe. We'll just have to see, wont we?"

Ginny laughed a little, making Harry feel like a git for arguing with the two younger students. "I'm sure your mother is a fine teacher." She looked at Harry and shrugged. "And I'll be able to decide for us Harry, since you wont be at Hogwarts this year."

His ears burning a little in embarrassment, Harry glanced around the compartment, noting that George and Percy were scanning over a list of Weasley's Wizarding Wheazes newest products while Mr and Mrs Weasley were discussing something quietly in their corner bench. All of the survivors of Voldemort were looking a little ragged around the edges, as if they would shatter into a million tiny pieces at the faintest mention of one of the fallens names. The buoyancy and youth in the eyes of the two American girls underscored the sadness in the compartment because they had not been touched by the war as the others had been.

"Excuse me a moment, I'm going to - er, going to look for the - er, going for a little walk." Harry replied, feeling guilty but wanting very much to get away from the people in the compartment who were just as depressed as he was at what awaited them at the end of the line in Hogsmeade.

Slipping as quietly as he could manage from the compartment, Harry bounced along the narrow hall of the train, coming up on the compartment beside the one which he had been crowded in beside the Weasley's to find Ron and Hermione sitting across from a figure swathed in a long black cloak, looks of trepidation on their faces as they tried to scan the face beneath the hanging black hood.

Spying the cloaked figure, Harry's stomach rolled when he thought of how much the figure resembled a death eater and it brought to mind Voldemort's Death Eaters as well as what had been taken from everyone aboard the train.

Rage, hot and familiar, ripped through him and he wrenched open the compartment door, his eye on the figure which had not moved or acknowledged the door rattling open and his hand on the wand that stuck up from his back pocket.

"Everyone's looking for you two." He felt the lie come easily to his lips, darting a quick look at Ron and Hermione as he silently urged them to their feet.

"Right." Ron whispered, Hermione's hand clasped in his as he stood and they both slowly edged their way out of the compartment.

Still watching the unmoving figure, Harry slid the door shut, gesturing silently for his two friends to follow him past the compartment where Percy was regaling his family with the new order at the Ministry and Ginny still questioned the two American students.

"Who is that?" Harry asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the compartment with the silent, cloaked figure.

"Don't know." Ron replied, suppressing a shudder. "Was sitting there thinking when Hermione came in to needle me some more about Krum – "

"Ron, I told you – we are just friends!" Hermione interrupted in a hissed whisper, pausing to roll her eyes.

Ron cast her a scathing look before continuing. "And that person apparated right there in the compartment – sitting and everything. Hadn't moved at all."

Harry glanced over his shoulder, a shadow of the pain he used to feel in his scar dancing through his memory as he thought of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. "Did you see their face?"

Hermione shook her head in the negative. "No."

"Can't tell if it is a man or a woman." Ron agreed, giving another shudder. "Though why anyone would want to wear robes and a hood like that after what the Death Eaters had done – " He broke off as a compartment door behind them rattled open.

"What are you three doing out here?" Mrs. Weasley shouted at them down the hall. "Ron, come meet the new students."

"Why would I want to meet some ickle midgets?" Ron mumbled, stifling a groan, but rolling his eyes as he started off in the direction of the compartment as Harry held Hermione back with a hand on her arm.

"Hermione, I forgot to ask you if you figured out the Sorting Hat's riddle." He looked hopefully at her, noting the small smile that came to her face.

"No, but I did find out something that I've been meaning to check, especially since we saw that car earlier." She replied, preparing to launch in to her suspicions when Mrs. Weasley called to them.

"I'll tell you later." Hermione promised in a whisper, her eyes beseeching Harry for patience as she slipped past him toward the opened compartment and Mrs. Weasley.

* * *

jealous-of-Kags : Thank you for reviewing! -stands over pot of boiling story- -stirs- Doesn't Ron always? lol. -adds ron into pot-

Read and Review oh readers!


	3. Chapter 3

Their arrival in Hogsmeade made Harry's heart clench in his chest as he looked up toward the high mountain where Hogswarts sat, the tower where Dumbledore had fallen a dark finger against an otherwise blue sky. The sound of Mrs. Weasley herding the two young Americans into a carriage as the other Weasleys talked among themselves faded in to the background as Harry involuntarily relived that night briefly in his mind.

Again, thinking of the people he had lost made his stomach clench like a fist in his body.

He would never again step through those gates, never again know the security of being a student housed within its walls, and the thought made his anger bubble inside of him.

He was staring up at the castle while the Weasleys talked amongst themselves as they magicked the baggage toward a coach that sat patiently waiting for them beside the station when the dark swathed figure brushed past him on the platform, startling him with the whisper of a cloak.

Jumping slightly and turning to spy the end of the cloak turn the corner of the station; he was surprised to find that the rage inside of him had quieted, gone back down the long hole inside of himself where he had tried to bury his emotions for so long.

"Ready Harry?" Mr. Weasley's face popped in to his line of vision, a sad smile that did not reach the eyes fixed to his lips.

"Yeah." Harry replied, turning to follow Mr. Weasley to the coach where Ron, Percy George and Hermione waited – Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and the two American students having gone on a coach ahead of them.

Waiting until they were all settled side by side in the cozy interior of the thestral coach, Harry turned toward Mr. Weasley.

"Mr. Weasley, did you see that cloaked person that walked past me in the station?"

He felt the interested eyes of Ron and Hermione fix on Mr. Weasley along with his. "Bit hot to be wearing those robes and more then a little odd to be here in them, especially considering how many of the Death Eaters wore them."

Perhaps pulled by the weight of their combined gazes, Mr. Weasley gave a sigh before turning toward him.

"Yes Harry, I did see the figure."

"Do you know who it is?"

"I suspect someone coming to pay their last respects to the fallen." Mr. Weasley replied.

"Who would wear robes that look so much like a death eater?" Ron asked the question before Harry could.

"Someone who wouldn't want to be recognized Ron." Mr. Weasley replied cryptically, turning his head toward the window again.

Harry was left to stew in his own suppositions until they arrived in Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks.

Stepping down from the coach, Harry spied the cloaked figure again, moving very quickly down the road toward the Hog's Head Inn. Knowing that the place was a haven for the less reputable of witches and wizards as well as Aberforth Dumbledore's home, he nudged Ron in the ribs and jerked his head in the direction of the figure with a raised brow.

Ron followed the figure's progress, his eyes full of the suspicion Harry felt as Mrs. Weasley began to shout orders at the group.

"Right." She said above the noise of the foot traffic that passed close by, the little village nearly bursting with people who had come to attend the memorial. "Ron and Harry, you'll be sharing a room with Percy and George. Ginny and Hermione, you two will be put in

together."

"What about the two new students?" Ron asked the very question that popped in Harry's head.

"They are staying with friends of Devin's mother." Mrs. Weasley replied, her eyes a little tight around the edges. "Don't you worry about them."

Mr Weasley came up to Harry before Harry could press the issue with Mrs. Weasley, his face tight with strain.

"I know you are curious about the figure Harry, but let it rest for the time being." He councilled, his face lined with worry. "There are people who mourn the losses as much as any of us and have a right to be here anonymously, whether you think so or not – so please don't do anything rash."

Harry opened his mouth to argue when he felt Hermione's foot against his, cautioning him to silence.

Watching Mr and Mrs Weasley as they disappeared in to the dark doorway of the Three Broomsticks, he felt the rage bubble to life again in his belly.

"Don't do this, don't do that." He muttered angrily, ignoring the sharp look from Hermione. "When will they realize I'm not a child anymore? When will they stop giving me orders?"

"Probably never." Ron replied glumly as his mother called for him to help with the baggage.

"I've written down the riddle." Hermione said later that evening in the room Ron and Harry were sharing with George and Percy. "As much of it as I can remember." She corrected herself as she unrolled the parchment she had produced after George and Percy had gone down to the taproom below.

Mind wandering as Hermione sat at the lone table in the room and Ron lounged on the narrow bed opposite him, Harry stood at the window, looking down at the stores below and the people who walked the narrow, winding streets of Hogsmeade. In the distance, he could make out the Shrieking Shack on the hill, as quiet and lonely looking as Hosgwarts had seemed earlier.

"_The Hero will come from the West," _Hermione read aloud. "Obviously, it has to be America. There is nothing else West of us, and too, we saw that big car outside the station – remember Harry?" She said to the room in general not expecting Harry to reply as she tapped her chin with a quill produced from her beaded bag. "Not to mention Devin and Ann. Strange that we would get exchange students after so long."

"Unless they mean Wales." She muttered to herself with a barely suppressed moan. "What do you think?" She asked, making Harry turn toward her slightly and give her a shrug.

Returning it, Hermione scribbled beside the line on the sheaf of parchment as Ron tore open a chocolate frog and bit off the head.

"I suppose we'll have to keep an eye out at the Memorial tomorrow for anyone wearing a sign that reads: American." Ron said around his mouthful of chocolate frog. "Unless you want to try talking to every single person there." He chuckled to himself. "Excuse me, but would you mind saying 'Hogwarts'?" He chuckled, obviously remembering the way the accent the two young teen girls had spoken with.

"_Weary, but infamous from the Quest,"_ Hermione frowned, ignoring Ron and re-reading the line quietly, her eyes skimming over it several times before giving a sigh of frustration. "I simply don't know what that line means, but we can come back to it."

Though he knew he should be listening, Harry glanced out the window again as the sun fell below the horizon, washing the picturesque village below in soft darkness, candles flickering to life in windows as the gas lamps along the street lit.

"_Tall and noble they will be," _Hermione said aloud, pausing again to tap the quill against her cheek in thought.

"That's obvious, isn't it?" Ron asked, swallowing his bite of chocolate. "They'll be tall and probably have Dumbledore's nose."

Harry chuckled at the stern look Hermione shot at Ron before turning back to the window, his eye being pulled once more to the Shrieking Shack as he remembered Sirius and the first time he had met his godfather.

Hermione continued._ "Brave and familiar, you will agree." _She paused, frowning at the parchment as if it would give her the answer she sought. "Do we know of anyone tall and brave?"

"Not Harry, he's still a runt." Ron said with a smile at his best friend who was more interested in the faint movement of shadow at the base of the hill below the shack then acknowledging Ron's comment.

"_Daring to journey where no wizard will dare," _Hermione read aloud behind Harry as he strained his eyes, finally making out a cloaked figure climbing the hill.

"Well, what wizard hasn't this past year? We've all done things we wouldn't have dared normally, haven't we?" Ron replied.

"_where they have seen death and returned it's glare," _Hermione continued, not noticing Harry's disinterest. "That bit could very well be Harry."

Harry watched the dark figure's progress, not noticing he had been holding his breath until the figure disappeared into the shadows of the rickety porch. Only when he could detect no more movement did he blink and hear what Hermione had been saying.

"Honestly Harry, I haven't found out anything of this riddle other then the Wanderer's Realm." Hermione's voice held an edge of frustration as she spoke, making Harry turn away from the window in spite of his curiosity about the hooded figure.

"Well, what is it?" Ron asked, rolling off of the bed and onto his feet.

"The Wanderer's Realm is where the souls of people who have died during an act of bravery go." She replied, tapping the quill against her chin again as she considered the words on the parchment before her.

Harry glanced back toward the window and the dark silhouette of the shack in the near distance. He itched to extract himself from the room and see what the cloaked figure was doing in there.

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, sitting on a trunk near the table as Harry sidled closer to his own trunk, plucking the invisibility cloak from the closed top where he had unpacked it.

"It's in _Secret Settings in the Sorcery World_ and _Mystical Meanderings_." Hermione replied casually, still studying her parchment "Really nothing substantial since none of the places mentioned or catalogued have been thoroughly explored by anyone in the wizarding world." She shrugged, eyes still slipping over the words before her. "The places are only theory, though it is interesting to hear one of them mentioned by the Sorting Hat."

"Of course." Ron replied, exchanging a smirk of amusement over her bowed head with Harry as he hastily shoved the cloak inside his shirt.

"Listen, if you two don't mind, I think I'm just going to have a walk about the village." Harry blurted out, making Hermione's head lift from the parchment as Ron looked at him.

"All right Harry?" Ron asked, red brows creased in concern.

"Yeah." Harry mumbled, looking away from their eyes, guilty for not letting them in on what he had seen. "Just feeling a bit stuffy in here." He replied, slipping out the door quickly to avoid any other possible questions.

Safely in the corridor of the rooms above the Three Broomsticks, Harry slipped the cloak over his head, pausing for a moment outside the door to be certain neither Ron nor Hermione were going to follow him.

Satisfied when he heard the low hum of Ron's voice and Hermione going on again about the Sorting Hat's riddle, he slipped down the stairs, through the crowded taproom and out the tavern door to the street below.

Deciding to keep the cloak over his head and avoid any possible delays, he slipped quietly down the street, neatly avoiding wizards and witches that were window shopping and speaking in low tones to each other along the road until he finally stood at the gate of the Shrieking Shack.

One hand on the rickety gate as he looked up in to the dark windows, he was assailed by memories of Sirius and Lupin, but resolutely gripped the gate and swung it open on squeaky hinges.

Flinching a little as the gate swung shut, he turned his eyes toward the shack, pausing to make sure then cloaked figure had not heard the cry of the rusty hinges. When no one appeared, he stole quietly up the walk until he came to the bottom step leading to the darkened porch overhang. Turning toward one of the broken windows along the front of the dilapidated house, he peered in through it to find the cloaked figure, dark hair falling in thick spirals and curls down the curve of a feminine back as the slender shoulders shook in grief.

Gathering his courage, he strained his ears, barely making out a soft whimper and sob accompanied by muffled weeping from within.

Startled at the mournful sound, he backed away from the steps - certain he had been creeping up on a family member of one of the fallen who had wished to mourn in solitude.

Feeling his heart twist again in his chest, he backed further down the garden path, toward the gate again before slipping past it and out into the street once more, the sounds of the heart rending pain he had unexpectedly heard making his own losses more acute then they had been before he had stolen away from Ron and Hermione.

"Harry?" Ron's face was very near his as Harry's eyes opened and he fought to focus them on the red hair and freckles that hovered in front of him. "Get up!" Ron whispered, the urgency in his voice spurring Harry to stumble from the bed amidst Percy and George's snores.

"What? What's happened?" Harry whispered back, pushing his glasses on to his nose as Ron moved to the window.

"Lookit that." Ron said, pointing out the window toward the Hog's Head Inn.

Joining Ron at the window, Harry looked down to where Ron was pointing, instantly spotting the exotic looking bird perched on the sill of one of the upper windows, impatiently tapping at the grimy glass with its beak.

The soft click-click of the magnificently colored bird's beak could be clearly heard through the shut window of their bedroom.

"That's what woke me." Ron whispered as they watched the window swing open and a slender, pale arm stretch out for the bird to climb onto. "I was having this weird dream about a clock – you know, like those ones in the ministry?"

Harry nodded, remembering the clocks Ron referred to vividly. It brought to mind one of the prophecies which had smashed to bits in the ministry during their first battle with the Death Eaters. The ghostly male voice seemed to echo in his brain: a_t the solstice will come a new…._

Harry wished he could have heard the remainder of what was said, but it was drowned out by a young woman's voice from another broken prophecy.

"Ron, what's the date today?" Harry asked, still hearing the echoing voice of the old man.

"June 21st." Ron said, looking quizzically at Harry. "Why d'you ask?"

Harry shook his head, still staring at the window where the pale arm disappeared. "It's probably nothing, but I remember a prophecy that we broke in the ministry that night, something about something new coming at the solstice."

"That would be today mate. The summer solstice." Ron replied, watching Harry carefully. "Did you hear what was coming at the solstice?"

Harry shook his head in the negative as they both looked down at the still sleeping street below.

"Oi." Ron whispered, his eyes still locked to the street below them. "What are they doing out?"

Harry followed Ron's gaze, spying the two Americans in their navy blue robes, though the dark haired one had a bright red headband pulling her hair from her face as she trudged sleepily along behind the blonde who carried a flat oblong board under each arm.

"I don't know." Harry replied as Devin dropped the two boards on the cobblestone street beneath them, ignoring something Ann was saying as she waved her hand and stepped up on one of the flat pieces of wood before turning and gesturing for Ann to do the same.

Harry and Ron watched as the two girls stood on the boards, their arms out for balance as they slowly rose in the air – Devin's two feet off the ground as Ann's hovered a few inches.

Fascinated, Harry let out a breath of surprise as she recognized Devin's foot come off the board just beside it and with a furious shove, she was sailing down the street, Ann following at a much more sedate pace.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Ron asked, his mouth open in awe as the two cloaked figures disappeared around the corner and out of their sight.

"Skateboards." Harry said with a smile.

"Skate boards?" Ron echoed in a whisper, his brows together in confusion. "What is a skateboard?"

Harry grinned, his whole outlook a little lighter with the familiar Muggle item that had been magicked. "It's a Muggle thing, there's a sport associated with it."

"Like Quidditch?" Ron asked, still confused.

Harry slowly shook his head in the negative. "No. More like tricks and such."

"Tricks?" Ron echoed, looking out the window as if expecting the two to reappear and make explanations for the items they were using.

"I just hope the Ministry doesn't find out they magicked those boards." Harry said with a wan smile, wishing he had one for himself.

Ron shrugged, still confused, but not caring much at that point. "So there is something coming at the Solstice." He asked, returning to the original subject and forgetting the skateboards.

"Yeah." Harry replied, still watching out the window.

"Well, let's hope it's nothing to do with spiders, eh?" Ron replied with a grin as Percy let out a snuffling snort, signaling his coming awake.

Hurriedly, Ron pulled the curtain shut again as he and Harry scrambled back to their beds, pretending to be coming awake as well.

"Morning." Percy mumbled to the other two as he rose in the bed, scratching at his head and yawning.

"Good morning." Harry replied as Ron let go of a jaw popping yawn. "Sleep well?"

Percy shook his head, climbing out of the bed to stretch. "No actually, I had this dream about a monstrous sized ticking clock." He mumbled, shuffling his way toward the bathroom as George slowly came awake.

"Sounds horrible." Giving Harry a grin and a wink, Ron began to pull on his clothes.

"It was." Percy's muffled response came from the other side of the door. "I kept dreaming I was late for work."


End file.
